


Out of This World, Out of This World

by DoreyG



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Magic to Make Impossible Sex Possible, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Iron Man 3, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Size Kink, Xeno, use of magic during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "Slow as ever, Stark," Loki drawls, stoppingjustin front of him and reaching a hand out to tenderly caress his throat, "tell me, will there ever be a day where youdon'ttake several hours to figure out the passage of years?"





	Out of This World, Out of This World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverShepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShepard/gifts).



The dreams always start in the same way.

He's in the tower, Stark Tower or Avengers Tower or Great Big Monument to Stupid Arrogance Tower, and Loki is stalking across the floor towards him. Glass cracks under his feet, and his heart pounds, and he _knows_ that he has to survive this as quickly as possible or else the whole fucking world is going to end...

Wait.

The world is going to end, the Chitauri are going to fall through the sky. There are going to be alien flying worm things, presumably, and he's going to do something really awesome with an explosive and some fancy flying. And then he's going to fly through a hole in the sky, and develop PTSD, and...

 _Wait_.

"Slow as ever, Stark," Loki drawls, stopping _just_ in front of him and reaching a hand out to tenderly caress his throat, "tell me, will there ever be a day where you _don't_ take several hours to figure out the passage of years?"

"It wasn't several hours, Loki the Green-nosed Goddeer, it was a minute. At _most_ ," he snaps, and tries not to be too obvious about the way he leans into the warm press of Loki's fingers, "besides, it's all your fault."

"Interesting hypothesis," Loki murmurs, eyes glinting dangerously in that way that _always_ manages to get him going.

"If you didn't keep bringing me back here every single time you want a fuck, then maybe I wouldn't be having any problems with cognitive dissonance and _maybe_ you wouldn't have to keep getting your panties in a twist," he says, and flashes his most charming grin. Watches that glint of danger in Loki's eyes grow larger, with a certain amount of unholy glee, "and maybe we could actually get around to said fucking faster."

"Indeed?"

" _Yeah_."

The thing is, he knows very well that this is messed up. He knows that he shouldn't be courting that dangerous look in Loki's eyes, he knows that he shouldn't feel any excitement as Loki slowly draws his hand away, he _knows_ that it's unhealthy to look forward more to dreaming than living.

He knows a lot of messed up things about himself, that doesn't mean that he's going to _stop_.

As ever, Loki loses patience quickly and moves even quicker. One moment they're staring at each other with narrowed eyes, the next Loki is grabbing him by the throat and shoving him back against the nearest wall.

He hisses, just _knowing_ that he's going to have bruises purpling his back when he wakes up, and flails out despite common sense. Somehow manages to grab Loki by the hair, and drag him in for a biting kiss so hard that his lips ache in the aftermath.

"You really never learn," Loki grumbles when he, and only he because he _still_ hasn't figured out exactly how long gods can hold their breath for, has to break for air.

"Would you like me so much if I did?" He goads, licking the taste of blood from his teeth.

Loki only snorts in response to that, and turns sharply. Tugs him away from the wall, and throws him casually down to the ground. His teeth judder in his skull, he can just _feel_ more bruises forming on his skin. He rolls automatically, ends up sprawled on his back like some kind of idiot sacrifice.

Loki stares at him from above for a second, as if he's considering just leaving him there or ordering him to lick his boots, but then snorts. Lowers himself slowly to the ground, and laces long fingers into his hair. Tightens his grip until he's writhing, straddling that line between pain and pleasure that's become so very familiar ever since he started seeing Loki in his dreams.

"Humans," Loki says, casually scornful, and uses his grip to steal another kiss. Cruel and fast, seemingly more for the purpose of taunting him than anything else, "do you ever get tired of being so fragile?"

"Do you?" He asks, on a gasp of air before he can quite think about it.

Loki growls warningly, but doesn't seem inclined to punish him today. The grip on his hair loosens, yes, but that's for a very good reason. Loki's hands soon dive to his clothes, ripping at the fabric like it’s a personal insult towards him. His shirt goes first, quickly followed by his sweatpants and his underwear. Before long he's lying naked on the cold floor, surrounded only by shreds of cloth.

Loki taps the centre of his chest, the bare centre without the arc reactor in this particular dream, with a thoughtful expression. Like he's thinking, perhaps, of complimenting him for _remembering_ that he got rid of the arc reactor years ago...

But the expression, as expected, soon fades. Please, it's not like Loki _knows_ how positive reinforcement works. He soon goes back to his usual cold haughtiness, his usual sneer like he'd rather be doing anybody else.

Lucky he knows the lie of that, knows the weird almost tenderness that lurks in the longest relationship that either of them have ever managed to have, or else he'd be feeling a little put out, "planning on torturing me today?"

"On pinning you to the ground, and digging my claws in until even you scream for mercy?" Loki says, tilts his head a little as if honestly considering that _very_ tempting thought, "I must admit, the thought has some appeal. You're being rather too mouthy for my tastes, Stark."

"Too mouthy, what a shock," he says cheerfully, knowing that Loki is well aware of his tendency to run his mouth off at every possible opportunity, "you should _totally_ punish me for it."

"Hm," Loki says, thoughtfully, and tilts his head a little. Allows a small smile to steal across his face, cruel and beautiful "...Maybe not."

And he would protest, he would totally protest at the very top of his lungs, but before he can even open his mouth Loki rolls his shoulders. Starts to shift, long and liquid and _blue_ , in a way that still makes his mouth go dry even after all these years.

He knows very well that Loki's never shown anybody else this form, has always shied violently away from the idea. Loki's afraid of it, gut deep and absolutely unmissable. He fears mockery, rejection, the few people that he does still care for turning away with disgust on their faces. He fears, perhaps more than all those other things, the people that he cares for _not_ turning away but instead looking at him with pity.

That Loki trusts him enough to not fear his pity is, he will admit, a big part of the reason why his mouth still goes dry every single time.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Stark?" Loki asks when he's finished shifting, his voice gone husky and deep in this different form, "I would hate to have to stop halfway through, just to soothe your tender feelings on the matter."

"It's amazing how you manage to make 'tender' sound like 'pathetic' every single time," he says cheerfully, and reaches out. Touches Loki's ice cold skin, his clothes ripped away by his transformation into this far bigger form, and marvels at the beauty of it, "I'll be _fine_. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Pretty?" Loki asks, raising one frosty eyebrow in disbelief.

"You take issue with _that_ , and not the little part?"

Loki grunts, hides what he's pretty sure was _almost_ a smile behind a quick scowl, and reaches out to grab his legs. In one sharp pull he's dragged under the entire bulk of Loki, pinned by his weight and the sheer force of his gaze like a caress upon the skin.

Loki bends his head to kiss him again, brief and rough, and then forces his big cold fingers between his legs. He tenses up a little, instinctively, as they find his hole... And then forces himself to relax as they push in. Tying himself into a knot over a little xenophilia isn't going to get him anywhere, and it _especially_ isn't going to get him fucked.

Extensive preparation isn't either of their speeds. One finger, two finger, three finger - like assembling the weirdest piece of Ikea furniture ever, and boring as hell besides. Instead Loki just pushes one finger into him, thrusts sharply until the more immediate pain settles into a more manageable ache, and then...

Despite himself, he still has to keep reminding himself not to tense every single time. The fact of the matter is that Loki is big, _insanely_ big. He's hung like some weird kind of alien horse. And there's always this fear, this pernicious and stupid as fuck fear, that it won't fit. That he's going to be torn open, ripped apart and never the same again. Fuck, even the _tip_ feels like the entire cock of some of the guys he's fucked. He bites his lip, can't stop himself from giving the slightest nervous wriggle as Loki braces over him...

And then Loki groans under his breath, mutters a quick and muffled word and slides in fully. Just as always, filling him as smoothly as ever.

"You do this every time," Loki says, only a touch breathless as he glares down at him, "I'm starting to wonder if I should feel _insulted_ , Stark."

"Nah," He says cheerfully, and even dares to prop himself up on his elbows for another quickly stolen kiss, "you love it every time."

It's not like the penetration is nothing, he can still _feel_ every inch of Loki filling him, but it's manageable. Pleasurable, instead of destructive. He feels filled up, stuffed, so wonderfully powerless that he could cry from the pleasure of it. He feels _safe_ , surrounded by the solid strength of Loki.

"If you are trying to trick me into disclosing any sort of _feelings_ , then you are going to be sorely disappointed," Loki says, almost managing to sound sour instead of fond, and starts to move without a single word of warning.

Just like they don't waste much time on preparation, they also don't ever waste much time on tenderness. One moment Loki is just starting to move inside him, the next he's pounding him into the ground. Dust flying around them, the only world of any interest contained within Loki's blood red eyes.

He's intimately aware of every inch of his body, grounded in a way that he never quite seems able to manage in the waking world. He can feel the stretch of his ass around Loki, the burn inside as that giant cock stretches him open. He can feel the scrape of his nipples against Loki's cold chest, the icy feeling that spreads from every place they touch. He can feel his heart pounding hard in his chest, the fight or flight response catching in his throat and choking him.

Loki seems, _is_ , equally lost. Those red eyes stare into his like they can see down to his very soul, like they're trying to wrap a collar around it and declare ownership. Those blue hands grip harshly at every single piece of flesh they can reach, pinching and grabbing like they're trying to leave a mark. That impossibly big cock keeps pulsing within him, like it’s trying to remind him that nothing else is ever going to compare to this.

Heh, like he doesn't already _know_ that.

They move together like this dream will never end, like there's no world outside the two of them, like they never have to stop doing this. They move together like the stars could fall, like the sky could break, like the universe itself could buckle into nothing and not even matter as long as they had each other. They move together like they understand each other, like they're _made_ for each other in a way that nobody else ever has to understand.

Who needs anybody else, after all? Who needs their judgement, their scorn, their utter lack of understanding? Who gives a flying _fuck_? As long as he has Loki, the rest of the universe can go hang.

His vision goes blurry at that thought, his insides clench hard around Loki's cock and his breath catches in his throat. There's a glorious moment on the edge, a moment where he could fly into the sky or die choking under the sheer weight of Loki, but then it’s gone and he's coming. Hard against Loki's stomach, the orgasm wrenched out of him with bone-shaking force.

Loki doesn't last long after that, he never does no matter how hard he tries to pretend superiority. He thrusts a few more times, rhythm going steadily more erratic with every push, and then freezes. Makes a noise a little like he's dying, and then comes inside him - a surge of warmth that seems never ending, pulse after pulse of come filling him up like ice. 

For a moment, just a moment, he feels like he can't breathe. Loki pants over him, too dazed to have full control over his magic, and he can suddenly feel every inch of the guy. His bulk, his icy flesh, the stretch of that gigantic cock pressing within him...

But it's only for a moment. And, to be honest, he wouldn't even mind that much if it was for a few moments longer. Loki quickly stirs, makes a low groaning sound and then slowly slides out of him. He takes a deep breath, and then settles into the feeling - allows himself to appreciate every inch of that cock sliding out of him, every rough brush against his still aching nerve endings.

"...Sometimes," Loki says eventually, his tone slightly slurred as he slumps down beside him, "I think you're not as much of an idiot as you seem, To- Stark."

"Sometimes," he says, and curls a little into Loki's body beside him just to feel the bite of that ice one more time before he has to wake up, "I think a bit of idiocy isn't that bad."


End file.
